She was chilled to silence, having no heart to reason him out of so unreasonable a defense. “Well, anyway,” he said, flinging himself on the sofa, “here I am, so let's make the best of it. Tea ready?” “It's just coming.” “That's good. When are you coming up to see the picture? It's going to be the best I've done. I shall get Constantine to exhibit it and that stick of a Demeter together, and then the real people and the fools will both have something to admire.” “You say this will be your best?” asked Mary, whom the phrase had stabbed. “Well,” he said reflectively, lighting a cigarette, “perhaps not better than the Danaë in one sense--it hasn't as much feeling, but has more originality. Miss Berber is such an unusual type--she's quite an inspiration.” “And I'm not, any more,” Mary could not help adding in a muffled voice. “Don't be so literal, my dear; of course you are, but not for this sort of picture.” The assurance sounded perfunctory. “Thank goodness, here comes the tea,” he exclaimed as Lily entered with the tray. “Hullo, Lily; how goes it?” “Fine, Mr. Byrd, but we've shorely missed you,” she answered, with something less than her usual wholehearted smile. “Well, you must rejoice, now that the prodigal has returned,” he grinned. “Mary, you haven't answered my question yet--when are you coming in to see the picture? Why not to-morrow? I'm dying to show it to you.” She flushed. “I can't come, Stefan; it's impossible to leave Baby so long.” “Well, bring him with you.” “That wouldn't be possible, either; it would disturb his sleep, and upset him.” “There you are!” he exclaimed, ruffling his hair. “I can't work down here, and you can't come to town--how can I help seeming to neglect you? Look here”--he had drunk his tea at a gulp, and now held out his cup for more--“if you're lonely, why not move back to the city--then you could keep your eye on me!” and he grinned again. For some time Mary had feared this suggestion--she had not yet discussed with Stefan her desire to stay in the country. She pressed her hands together nervously. “Stefan, do you really want me to move back?” “I want you to do whatever will make you happier,” he temporized. “If you really needed me there I would come. But you are always so absorbed when you're working, and I am so busy with Baby, that I don't believe we should have much more time together than now.” “Neither do I,” he agreed, in a tone suspiciously like relief, which she was quick to catch. “On the other hand,” she went on, “this place is far better for Baby, and I am devoted to it. We couldn't afford anything half as comfortable in the city, and you like it, too, in the summer.” “Of course I do,” he answered cheerfully. “I should hate to give it up, and I'm sure it's much more economical, and all that. Still, if you stay here through the winter you mustn't be angry if I am in town part of the time--my work has got to come first, you know.”